It is time to come clean

This post has been a long time coming. I don't even know if I'm ready to write about this yet. It is one of those things that isn't a big deal in the scope of life, and it isn't even relevant anymore...but when I think about it I still get ill.

I appreciate that I was raised not taking myself too seriously and not getting too bent out of shape about things. I will be the first person to make fun of myself or tell an embarrassing story that makes me look ridiculous. But there was this one time....

Years ago I managed a crepe shop. It was owned by a very nice wealthy man who liked crepes and decided to build a restaurant so he could eat them there. He had a good sense of humor, but he was also very particular in the way our shop looked and was perceived. I am not exaggerating when I say that it was more important to him that the spot on one of our chairs be removed, than the inventory be counted and the ordering be correct.

Since our shop was new to the area, we liked publicity and if it happened to be free...well, then all the better. My friend knew a guy at the local city paper (not the official one, but the artsy one where you read stuff about beer and dance clubs) and called him up to see if he was interested in doing an article on our shop. He was. My boss was excited about this opportunity and asked if I could do the interview because he was going to be in India for a few weeks. Cool. No problem. I helped put this shop together with the owner so I knew this place inside and out.

The journalist guy showed up with a photographer at the shop a few days later. We got along really well and joked and laughed and talked about the crepe shop, the employees, our uniforms (we had to wear berets) how hot it was in the shop, our favorite crepe to make, and a little about my son (he was with me and looking crazy cute with his 6 month old self). The photographer was great too and after he snapped a couple of shots we said our goodbyes. I felt great about the interview.

I don't remember how long it was before the article came out, but I do know my boss was still in India. We were all excited to see this 2 page spread on our great little place. And then I got a strange call at the shop. It was early, in fact I think it was before we opened, I know it was still dark out...but anyways, I answered it.

Me- "Hello?"
Creepy voice - "Hi. Is this Suzanne from Ooh La La Crepes?"
Me- "Yes?"
Creepy voice - "Well, I just read your article in the City Pulse and wanted to tell you that I thought it was a great interview and even though I've never been there before, I now want to try your restaurant."
Me - "Uh...great. Thank you."
Creepy Voice - "That is all. Goodbye."

Strange for sure, but what struck me as even stranger was that I hadn't even seen the article yet. That changed later that day. The City Pulse showed up and I tore into it. The first thing I noticed was the huge picture of me. It startled me a little bit, but not as much as what I was about to encounter in the article. It is difficult for me to quote what was said for a couple of reasons, one being that it was many years ago and the other is that I have been trying to purge that article from my mind since the moment I read it. What I do remember clearly is the growing dread as I read further and further and then the panic that hit when I was done.

Here are some of the things that I was quoted as saying.

"The uniforms aren't very popular with the employees, but the customers like them...they are better than the french maid uniforms that our owner originally suggested"

"Yeah, it gets so hot in here that the food inspector (jokingly) told me that we don't even need to salt our crepes, our sweat will do that."

(Glancing over at my son)"My son really dislikes the berets too. I make him wear it because I think it's funny."

and so on and so on....

I threw away all the papers in our shop.

Even my loving supportive employees, although finding much humor in the article, told me that I was toast when the boss man read it. I was pissed at first at the interviewer and felt like I had been mislead, and then I recognized that although he could have spun it better, those were direct quotes from me. I was screwed. I was an idiot.

And what was with the creep voice guy? It could have been some weirdo who likes to get the paper hot off the press and then call all the people in it because he is lonely...or I like to think the journalist guy paid a homeless man to call me once he realized I may not be to happy with the result of the article. I'll never know.

How does the story end? Well, as far as I know the boss never read the damning article. He kept asking me to find a copy of it...and I just couldn't produce one. He was irritated with my ineptness at locating the article, but given the circumstances I'll take irritation.

So there it is. I gave a horrible interview, made myself and my business look like a joke and then hid it from my boss.

The purge is now complete.